Vanished
by Icy Phoenyx Vyxen
Summary: Al Mualim is finally defeated with the Apple hidden away in safe condition. The anticipation is rising for who will become the rightful Grandmaster Assassin of the Brotherhood. Altair, however, has other plans on his mind, ones that seem unexpected. How will Malik cope when the news unravels? Alt/Mal. Future yaoi.
1. Eagle's Departure

**Emotional Evacuation**

**A****uthor(s):** Icy Phoenyx Vyxen

**G****enre(s):** Angst/Romance

**P****airing(s):** AltairxMalik

**R****ating: **T

**S****etting:** Assassin's Creed Era

**S****ummary:** After defeating Al Mualim, Altair thinks that there is nothing much left for him to do. Without as so much as telling anyone, he sets out on a secret mission of his own. One that he that regrets, but feels as if it was the only choice he had left: erase his existence forever. What would Malik have to say? Slight slash/yaoi.

**Disclaimer:** Assassin's Creed © Ubisoft

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**I  
**

The full moon shone brightly in the pitch black sky; a dazzling array of stars twinkled silently above. The cool wind blew with ease as the trees rustled and leaves scuttled across the ground. Such a marvelous night.

Altair stood in the deserted garden of the Fortress, head tilted downward with his hands firmly gripping the railing. He did it. It was over, all finally over. The Brotherhood had finally been rid of the tainted soul that once ruled over the land of Masyaf. They were saved apart from those who were less fortunate or injured. The dispute was done, but the war was far from over, that he knew. The Assassins drove the Templars back with their tails between their legs and was able to retrieve what was rightfully theirs. But in his opinion, that was nothing to be so joyous over.

His lips parted slightly to let out a deep sigh. With Al Mualim gone, he feared he was at a lost. He was like a fatherly figure to him considering he was the one who took him into warm open arms when he was still a small street orphan. He still has not forgotten that and the memories that followed. Ever since he was but a mere child, when he was introduced to the brothers that resided within the vicinity, when others rarely talked to him because he was always quiet and seemed like an outcast to some, when he was given a name. Al Mualim knew he would grow up with the others to become like one of them, a highly-skilled Assassin. Not just some ordinary Assassin, but the Eagle, and not to mention, the Angel of Death. But was that all he saw in him?

Altair's body tensed as his gripped tightened subconsciously, jaw clenched. He did not want to admit, but through all that has recently happened, he missed him. His heart wrenched painfully at the thought. The man held a strong connection, or bond, with the old Grandmaster unlike he did with anybody else. Although, it was not the first time he was in so much grief, mainly able to not let show unnoticed. Over the time that Malik and he would have petty arguments about his arrogance, ego, and the loss of Kadar, Altair was thankful that his friend forgave him after he apologized, not for his sake, but from the very core of his being. He understood the hatred and frustration the Dai had for what happened at Solomon's Temple, even if he tried to say an apology countless of times. It may have taken some time before the two could let it pass over, but it taught him an important lesson, nevertheless.

The Syrian Assassin recomposed himself for a moment, straightening his stance and slowly tilting his head upward to the sky, not bothered by the breeze pushing the cowl back to reveal his face. _What would a man like me do next?_ With Al Mualim disposed of after he was given the privilege to give the old one a proper burial, resulting in the town folks as well as his brothers suggesting that the man had no right to cremate, the Order would soon call a meeting to discuss over the issues of who would become the new Grandmaster of the Assassins. Who would they pick? Who would be next in line to be given the robe of the Master and to run the organization? Hopefully it would someone with common knowledge and skill. Maybe Rauf. The trainer would be a suitable choice. He would do great, but what if he rejects the offer? Who would they select then?

Hazel orbs gleamed under the moonlight in wonder, a small scowl forming. _What is the possibility of selecting me? Would the others agree or pick out the flaws of my person?_ Knowing the other Dais within Acre, Arsuf, Damascus and Jerusalem, as well as others outside, they would never think to have him to lead the Assassins. They obviously feared for the worse that could happen if the Eagle of Masyaf was to take charge. All of them were skeptical, except Malik. Being a dear friend and brother, he would surely put into good word that he was not the bad man everyone thought. He had changed and slowly progressed to what he has become now. If they only understood and avoid his past failures, that would make him more than relieved.

Wait. What of Abbas? What would become of him? Most likely, he would want to have a say in the matter. Altair's hands balled into tight fists. That insolent fool was so full of himself, always gloating and putting down others beneath him. No. The Order better not think he deserves every right to be the one because he will be damned if he was. Even if he was one of the nominees, he only crossed his fingers and pray to Allah. But who knew? It was their decision, not his. He, also, knew Malik would not the let others make foolish decisions, so all was well.

Closing his eyes, the Eagle inhaled the refreshing air through his nose before exhaling out his mouth. Cautiously, he placed a boot onto the marble handrail then waited for a second before finally planting the other on so that he was now standing up on top. Taking his time while making sure to keep balance, his eyes opened as they averted downward, gazing past the mountainous cliff to the waters below. Both hands clenched together. Why was he doing this? It was as if he was being suicidal. He understood that he had plenty of enough time to turn back from doing something as atrocious as this, but his mind was already made up. It felt as if he had to. Someone did not deserve to be ranked as Master Assassin such as him. Not even Maria would understand what he had been through, let alone what he had in his past life. She was _Templar_, the enemy. Yet, he had spared her, claimed her innocent, and never bothered to explain why. What would happen if she hears of his disappearance? Would she go into mourning and grieve over the lost of him? Maybe, maybe not. Who would know?

_I must do what must be done._ Said Assassin calmly lifted his head back up and deeply exhaled, his hot breath turning into fog in the cold night air. He raised both of his arms to his sides like an Eagle spreading out its wings. The Syrian prepared himself, heart thumping hard in his chest as he was about to make the ultimate jump, the ultimate Leap of Faith. Was this how it all was to end? Drown to his death, knowing fully well that he had the inability to swim? It could have been worse; however, this made him, for the first time in his life, extremely nervous and having second thoughts. Yet, it was too late.

Altair, with little force, pushed his feet off the handrail, casting himself over the cliff of the garden. His eyes scrunched into slits as the wind went rushing through his face, blurring his vision from seeing where he would land. Memories, images, and voices of familiar faces flashed mentally.

"_Altair! It seems that my students do not fully understand what it is to wield the blade. Perhaps you can show them what you know."_

Rauf.

"_I should kill you for the pain you came upon us. Malik thinks it only fair your life in exchange for his brother's. But this would be a waste of my time and your talents. You'll see that you've been stripped of your positions. Your rank as well. You are a novice, a child once more. As you were on the day you first joined our order. I am offering you a chance at redemption... you'll earn your way back into the Brotherhood."_

Master.

"_An excellent kill. Fortune favors your blade."_

Kadar.

"_No, but it will have to do." He places the feather on the desk. "Rest, prepare, cry in the corner... do whatever it is you do before a mission. But make sure you do it quietly."_

_Malik…_

Altair plunged headfirst into the depths of the freezing water, holding his breath for as long as he could. Within around forty seconds or less, he grunted as a sudden pain shot his chest, lungs aching. Bubbles spewed from his mouth opening while his face cringed in agony and swallowing a little bit of the water. With the only light source coming from the moon, he twisted and tried to reach with both hands towards the surface. The harder he tried, the more the world around him darkened. Soon, his eyelids drooped as a groan rumbled in his throat and sight faded off into the black unknown.

_Safety and peace, brother..._

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_**Author's Note:**__ Eh. I know it seems sad or tragic and unlike something Altair would do. Yet, this is something I wanted to try out. Next chapter will be up soon. All reviews and constructive criticisms are always welcomed and accepted. Hope you liked or enjoyed it!_


	2. Strange Air

**II  
**

The morning was hot with the sun shining high over the city, the clouds nowhere to be found. It was one of those days where it was too hot to do anything really. That was just how unbearable this heat was during the summer season.

Malik stood behind the desk, contently scribbling on a piece of parchment. Ever since the celebration the previous night, he was quite relieved that the threat as well as endangerment to the Brotherhood was finally disposed of; however, that did not mean that the war between the Templars and Assassins were over, also. This he knew for a fact.

A silent thud was heard in the courtyard, making the rafiq stop his actions. A hooded figure casually strolled into the Bureau, and he had guessed it be Altair, but it was not. The robes were not white like the ones of the higher ranked Assassins but the grey-colored ones almost similar to what the novices would wear. He was slightly shorter in height with a darker complexion like the townsfolk in the streets and a hard-to-notice stubble, or goatee, on his chin. By his overall appearance, he looked to be around in his early twenties.

The man placed a hand over his chest where his heart was located and bowed his head politely. "Safety and peace, Malik," he greeted, his accented-voice deep yet held a friendly tone about it.

"I did not expect to see you here, Ihtisham," Malik stated, watching the man approach his desk as amusement flickering his dark orbs. "Why travel this far to Jerusalem?"

Said Assassin turned so that his back was leaning against the edge of the counter and crossed his arms. "Reasons of my own," he replied. "I had decided to train earlier today to assist Rauf with teaching the novices how to wield the sword." He paused, shrugging. "Afterwards, I rode to Jerusalem in hopes of tending to anything that requires it."

The rafiq nodded his head. "Ah, I see. But I'm afraid there is nothing here that needs attending to. So, you practically wasted your time."

Ihtisham seemed disappointed, but brushed it off with a grunt. "Figured as much."

Malik stared at the Assassin, a ghost of a smile stretching across his lips. Ihtisham was a good man, always eager to help around in and out of the Fortress. It did not matter the weather condition, so as long as he is kept busy, he would not be so restless and throwing a fit. He knew his own limits, and if pushed too hard, he was not afraid to speak out heated profanities. But unlike most, his temper was quick to disperse and would be forgiven with many apologies. Besides the anger, the rafiq came to like the Assassin for his personality and his determinacy to lend a helping hand. _An exceptional addition to the Brotherhood._

"Malik."

Said Bureau owner snapped out of his thoughts by hearing the call of his name. "Yes, brother?"

Ihtisham seemed deep in his own thoughts, the exposed lower half of his face from under the white hood set firmly, almost like he was contemplating. "I noticed a slight…change during this morning's practice."

The brunette placed his writing quill to the side of the motionless parchment then leaned forward against the wooden desk with his arm. "Tell me of this change." He was curious as to what was being said.

The young Assassin took a moment, carefully choosing his words. "I cannot explain it, but the air…It just didn't feel right, like something was off."

Malik listened patiently, eyebrows creasing slowly in wonder. "Perhaps your nerves, I suppose?"

"That was what I thought, at first." Again, he stopped before continuing while gesturing with his hand to help get his point straight. "But the air had a…a nip to it, something that was unexplainable." Ihtisham sighed and shook his head. "I am unsure if anyone else had the same feeling as I did."

As a matter, Malik kind of noticed the air having a sudden change. After the death of Al Mualim, the celebration they held the previous night seemed oddly…out of place. It was like something was there, but had gone missing without him even noticing. He knew this from his own point of view, but he had yet to find out why. _What could it be?_

In response, the rafiq of Jerusalem shook his head. "I do not know what to tell you, Ihtisham."

Said brother grunted, sighing as he dropped his arms to his side and turned to face Malik, bluish-grey orbs glowing under the darkness of the hood. "Well, I must be going back, then. Hopefully, I'm diagnosed with any skittish problem or paranoia of any sort," he joked on his way out of the Bureau.

"If that was ever the cause, Ihtisham, then we would have you locked away in a dark room for your safety," Malik joked back, a playful smirk appearing on his lips.

Ihtisham halted at the doorway to the courtyard then glanced over his shoulder, casting a genuine smile. "Then, I'd have you to blame, my friend."

"Go before you lure the guards in, novice, and you would be the one to blame!"

Said Assassin only chuckled, the sound reverberating around the room before scaling up the wall and out into the open. The smile on Malik's face lingered for a while before he picked up the quill into his hand. Just when he was about to continue his written work, he stopped.

_Novice…_

His brown orbs gazed down at the scroll as realization had hit him as that word repeated itself in his mind. There was only one he truly call novice. It was just _him_, and nobody else. Back at the Fortress, he did not even notice the man was there, which could be a possible reason. Could that be the cause of the certain feeling in the atmosphere he felt? When did he leave? Where did he go? Had he left to make himself nonexistent? Was that the feeling Ihtisham experienced that was similar to his? Questions would not quit its swarming tactics, leaving the rafiq to develop a bit of a headache. His hand released its grasp on the writing utensil to travel up to Malik's forehead then proceeding to massage his temple while deeply exhaling.

_I have to wonder. Where is Altair?_

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_***Author's Note*  
**Sorry this had to be semi-short, and not the best. Had to do what I could muster. So busy procrastinating that I rarely had time to add another chapter to this. Yet, I am grateful that I finally did. Hoped this was good enough to continue it on. If you find any errors, but a friend and let me know, so I can correct them. Thank you all for the favorites, follows, and reviews. More will be on the way until the end!_

_.:*:.  
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_***Review Responses***_

_**Golden Eagle 603  
**_To your question, yes, I have. I tried my best to make the angst…there, you know, as you read it, and it was hard for me, but I wrote whatever came to mind. Glad to hear someone's interested, and thank you. Sorry for late replies, too!

_**elomelo  
**_Glad to hear! Thanks for reviewing, elomelo! Sorry for late replies, too!

_**~Icy Phoenyx Vyxen**_


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